LOE - Online RP


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LOE - Online RP

Post by Karvon » Wed Aug 20, 2008 9:06 am

An edited condensed archive of previous postings

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*Trelain looks thoughtfully around and then to his companions*

"Mes no give o'nuf credit ta da necro fer dat be sure he ain't tellin' none o his lackies any o piece o his plans. If da tracks all o covered up den me thinkin' best wes be lookin elsewheres... like mayhap findin dat third crypt."

*Trelain stiffens some at this as if a cold wind blew down his back*

"But den mes agreed to ye not ta be dangerin' ye on a trip through Morovia."

*Trelain shakes his head and frowns... clearly not sure that is the path to take.*

hmmm... *Thini Looks thoughtful*

we need to get ourselves ready before we head into moravia though. Bad enough that we are forced to go there, but if we go unprepared, we deserve what we will get there.

That means some more traps if i can find some some place.

"Traps? Dat ain't mes know-how, lad. Ye deal wif da traps. Mes worry o bout da walkin dead."

Looking up from a beard full of ale dripping on the tavern tale:
"I be needin more potions and da like .. and more of dis ale"

Torrin lay on the soft bed, sound asleep, Xan curled up in a ball on his stomach. As the morning light broke through the room's window, the wyrmling popped open an eye and stared at it for awhile before raising his body and stretching, much like a cat. He looked towards the sound of Torrin's snoring and gave a resigned sigh before lightly stepping up his chest and butting him on the chin. Torrin stired slight and muttered "Just five more minutes, Master Hermithous, I'll clean out the stables later..." Xan shook his head slightly and continued to butt against Torrin's head until he popped open his eyes.

"Huzzah? What? Oh, good morning, Xan. Sleep well?"

The wyrmling just stared at his master before replying, "No, I most certainly did not sleep well, what with the snoring from those infernal dwarves and soldiers. Seriously, Master, I do not think this is what Master Hermithous meant by going out and seeing the world. Why, we're pratically slumming! And the stench of those two..."

"Now, now, Xan, those kind gentlemen have saved our lives more than once. Why, without them, we would probably be dead...or worse. Don't you think you owe them at least a bit of gratitude?"

"Sigh. You are right, master, of course. But still. Must we abide by their wretched scent? I mean, haven't they heard of bathing? Or soap? Or of any manner of cleanliness for that matter?"

Torrin shook his head ruefully before replying, "Give them a chance, Xan. Who knows? You may come to even like them."

"I seriously doubt that, master, but I shall endeavor to tolerate them, even it means procurring a clothes hanger as soon as possible."

Torrin laughed at his familiar and changed out of his nightclothes quickly, bounding down into the main hall with a loud greetings and a what's for breakfast?

*Trelain eats his breakfast where a key part of the meal is an ale. The foam of the ale lingers on his beard and mouth. He stares intently into the flame of a candle as it dances back and forth. His lips tremble some as if he is mumbling something to himself or perhaps a higher power. Those in close proximity may hear this:*

"What ever shall mes do wif danger o da while round ever corner? Walk in ta der den?"

*Thini is sitting, eating a breakfast of vegetable soup, with some water, and checking his equipment*

Let us hope the gods are with us, and luck too, for i wish not to die in Moravia. *Thinks to himself* Harden ye selves, it will be tough going, and very little in the way of comforts. *looks at the mage, who seems to smell, of soap, and cleanliness*

Torrin sat in an empty stool with a loud thump.

"So. What's for breakfast? I'm starving!"

Xun hovered behind his master, giving him a disgusted look before turning to one of the room's corners.

"If you require me, master, I shall be rooting out mice or other means of nourishment that may be found in this...establishment."

Torrin merely waved at him and smiled hugely at Thini.

"Oh, I doubt any of us will be dying, friend! There's too much adventuring to do! Death would only impede that.

The inn is bustling with activity as you make your way to an empty table. A table or two are crowded with boisterous Alwyn men-at-arms fresh from patrol. A couple of tables are taken by merchants huddled in conversation and watched by sharp-eyed bodyguards. A richly dressed priest and his attendents are enjoying a private feast at one of the corner tables.

The harried serving wench eventually brings you each a wooden bowl of thick steaming stew and a heavy tankard of ale.

The innkeep makes his way around the room making friendly inquires and chatting with the patrons. He drops by your table.

"Ah gentlemen, I trust everything is to your satisfaction. Well you be lodging with us another night?"

*Thini looks up at the innkeeper* Ah, unfortunately i do not believe so, we have important business to deal with. Ah sir, do you know where i can find some equipment here, say hidden devices to deter creatures from following us?

The innkeeper scratches his head for a moment.

"Well I suppose ya could check the stock of the local trader, he might have what ya be lookin fer."

*Trelain casually studies the richly dressed priest to see if he can determine if the fellow wears the colors or gear of any distiguishable order or cult. He takes note of the number and dress of those accompanying the rich one as well and listens to his conversation from his current seat.*

"Hmm, wonder o dat mes do."

ooc: Does a mental check if he recognizes the association of the priest / noble or his followers.

From the colors and various symbols worn by he and his attendents, you recognize them as priests from the Theocracy of Thelwyn, the eastern neighbor of the Duchy of Perrinland. From snippets of conversation, you deduce they are some sort of diplomatic delegation visiting Alwyn.

*Thini walks out to the merchent* Good day sir, how are you doing today *Pauses to let the man/woman answer* (if the person asks how my day is) ah good good, a slight lack in supplies for a long and dangerous trip, i was wondering if you have some items that would deter creatures with an ill will to me and my party.

The merchant nods thoughtfully.

I have some traps which locals use to deal with some the pesky creatures which come out of the forests and raid outlying farms. Mind you, these killing traps, not snares for live capture.

*nods* Yes yes, and how much might those be good sir?

*thini walks back into the inn thinking about the traps, and walks toward Torrin* So Torrin, where are ye from?

*Trelain motions to his companions to draw closer. He says quietly*

"Mes has o need ta speak wif da folk campin most like on da outskirts o Morovia. Mes thinkin da gypsies be wanderers an hard ta find as such. Mayhap dey know o who wes be a seekin. Yet mes no want ta alert da whole o da land by askin obout."

*Listens to trelain, then thinks a bit*

We have ta be careful, we have no idea whether some of the gypsies that roam those parts are in league with the one we are looking for.

Torrin looks up from the soup he's noisly eating as Thini addresses him. He quickly swallows and wipes his mouth on his sleeve.

"Me? Where did I come from? Well, my father was the third son of a fairly prosperous merchant..."

His words are cutoff from a "harumph" eminating from a corner of the common room as Xan lifts from the ground and hovers by his master's side.

"I believe, master, that he means where we were before we had the pleasure of making his aquaitance."

"Oh, yes, of course! Well, until recently, we were studying at the Academy on the Wizard's Isle. Such a lovely place, too. You should visit some time! I'd have to show you the tree of life, let you meet Jerrin..."


"What? Oh. Sorry. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Xan and I had finished our studies and decided to see the realms, as it were."

Torrin stopped to stare at his familiar rolling its eyes.

"What? I thought you wanted to see the realms?"

"I did not, master, you did. I was quite comfortable at the enclave, not to mention warm and fed properly."

Torrin waved his hand at the small dragonling dissmissively.

"Pfft. You wanted to adventure as well, you just can't admit it. Anyways, we heard about the ruins we meet you at and decided to look it over. Good thing the three of you came along, or our welcome may have been permanent!"

Xan mumbled something that sounded like thanks before landing in Torrin's lap and curling up into a ball before going to sleep.

Torrin coughed in the smoke that hung over the inn like a dense cloud and tried to wave some of it away. He found an empty stool and waved the Dwarves over, or thought he did, he couldn't really see what he was doing.

"It's not that I don't appreciate your help in keeping me from being worm food, or worse, but you keep mentioning this...finger wraggler that I know nothing about. Not that I want somebody going around and raising the dead willy-nilly, but why are you after him and what's so important about finding him quickly?"

*Trelain takes a drink and sits among his companions. He looks around some at the patrons closest to him to see if any are within ear-shot. Seeming satisfied, he begins speaking in a low tone, quiet and calm, looking at Torrin at times and then again around the room as he spins the tale. *

"Lad, ye be needin to know o few tidin's fer yer own good ta dwell o-mung da likes o us. Dis fella out o Morovia done cause trouble obout da Cemetary o Bywater. Seem he thinkin dat raisin o dead army fer his likin be da proper way ta get his jollies. Wes done chase da fella an put down o least some o da dead fer good. But den da fella shows in o image an threaten da likes o us point blank.

Now mes know ye be sayin da o idle threat ain't nothin ta be-grudge yet wes talkin wif da Council headed by Lord Fox an dey say ta keep tabs on dis necro. Wes set o mind dat da necro plan ta grow in power an form up o legions o dead soon o nuf.

Ye be seein by mes way wif da Alwyn guardians mes ain't obout ta start flyin off da handle an just rushin in ta battle da necro straight oway. Wes need o plan. Mes thinkin o plan ta lure da fella out where wes can trick em inta givin up his hidin spot an plans fer power."

*Trelain looks Torrin over to see if this is all sinking in.*

Torrin gives Trelain a blank look before shaking his head.

"I think you said that this necromancer you're chasing has threatened you and that some council or other has asked that you put him to rest for good? If that's the case, count me in!"

At that, Xan flies over and settles himself into Torrin's lap. He looks up at his master with sad, brown eyes.

"Please, master, tell me we are not going to go chasing around someone who thinks re-animated dead things make good company."

"I'm afraid so, Xan. Won't it be fun?"

"Your idea of fun, master, rather frightens me."

*Thini walks into the inn, looking a bit ruffled.*

Sorry about that I had some important business to take care of.

*Trelain looks over at the sudden appearance of Thini and does not seem in the least bit surprised. He says:*

"Thini, ol lad, ye got o way o bout ye. Mes was thinkin ye tailin us da whole time an not in da open ta pay da toll at da bridge. "

*Trelain chuckles alittle and returns to a flat look, one of concentration on the task at hand*

"Now den, what o da plan?"

Is there any new information on the person who we are looking for Trelain?

"Da half-breed orc en da port done tell da likes o us dat dey come down be it by boat 3 o 4 days back. Wes only be knownin da fella travel wif 3 o 4 uders... all humans o sort an wearin hooded cloaks... de fella no talkin' much an hard ta get o read on."

Perhaps we need to be getting on a boat to follow them then? *looks at Trelain* Unless ye wouldn't like that *Thini grins a bit*

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Re: LOE - Online RP

Post by Karvon » Wed Aug 20, 2008 9:11 am

After pursuing various leads in Seaview, the party pushed on east towards Morovia, surviving an ambush by assassins on the road and enduring an uncomfortable night on the village green of Southkeep. Arriving on the border, they've been confronted by a border guard and are contesting the fee required for entrance into the realm.

* Trelain takes his companions aside and says *

"Mes think dat be best ta play o long an not cause trouble. Mes aint right wif da skeleton minions yet wes got o bigger fish ta fry... play o long."

The party bid farewell to Torin and Xan and headed deeper into Morovia, surviving a spider and stirges in Templewood before finding shelter in the nearby village Bogosczyk. Here they consulted a Gypsy fortune teller who made a number of ominous predictions about their future.

Well Trelain, it seems that our journey is still fraught with danger and peril *Thini grins* just the way I like it, we couldn't go and have something be easy.

* Trelain says quietly *

"Mes think ta play one lord o genst da next ... keep em busy wif demself an flush da one wes seek out."

Our champions were joined by a hobbit wizard named Hobart and sought employment with Lord Soris. They were offered the opportunity to prove themselves by collecting some pelts of werewolves from nearby Templewoods. After a bit of searching along the road between Bogosczyk and Nardin, the group failed to find any of the beasts, though they did find some stirges and spiders, and wandered west into the pass where they encountered strange vile spirits haunting the way.

*Trelain *
"Da dead walk er mes beard be o made o dyed broom bottom. Mes thinks be best ta get in fer da night, yet da gate locked. Wes best ta wait dat out an take sleep n shifts. Mes go an have da first o dem watch. Take yer sleep, lad."

Trey couldn't help thinking to himself "this is what happens when you get involved"

As an apprentice druid he had learned the base rituals and understood the wisdom of natural order but some part of him couldn't seem to relax fully into the natural order and as such he sought to change things. At first it was small things a slightly sick tree or stregthening a young bird with his art. Most of those were harmless yet Adamas kept telling him "even a small change has big consequences"

Apparently this is how he found him self now trudging the road towards some halfling village he had heard rumours of the dead rising and disregarding his master he set out. he most of what he needed but it was hard seeing the people in the towns goabout their lives with no regard for the life around it.

A wandering druid and rogue joined up with the group and together they sought out the Caverns of Bos, reportedly in the hills north of the village of Nardan east of Templewood. A tense encounter with a pack of angry werewolves, ended peacefully with the group sticking to the path and abandoning their hunt for wolf pelts - at least for now. Alas, the group got lost in the darkness and have wandered far north into Alwyn.

Retracing their steps back from Alwyn, the party ventures back thru Templewood, surviving run-ins with werewolves and spiders to finally make their way into the Caverns of Bos. Fighting off several waves of undead as they explore the caverns, they are forced to turn back following a particularly bloody battle with massed skeletons and after two of their scouts stumble onto a powerful ward and nearly lose their lives. Following a night at the small tavern in Narden, the band considers their next move.

You see a elderly man in a well fitted plate armour enter the inn. A shield is strapped to his pack and a sword is scarbarded to his side. He hold the door open as if allowing someone else to come in.

After a small hesitation, he walk to a table. Pull a chair as if inviting someone to sit and walk to the Innkeeper.

"Some Ale for me and a glass of wine for my lady if you please Innkeeper", he intones while fishing some coins from a purse.

Walking back to his table. He put the glass of wine in front of the empty chair and sit across with his ale.

Trey turned to Trelian after he offers the mysterious beggar cum cleric a meal.

While normally i would not have a problem with helping the hungry, my major concern at this point is simply how this hunger seems to be self-induced. It's one thing to aid someone but if his gods no longer have purchase here it might be best he left and not risk hunger after we have left.

Xavion looked at the so-called keeper at the shrine for a while before looking over at Trelain for a few moments. 'Brilliant', he thought,' What an excellent way to get him away from the shrine. Once he leaves, I can inspect that panel and see if it truely is a secret passageway.'

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Re: LOE - Online RP

Post by Karvon » Wed Aug 20, 2008 9:19 am

The band, joined by a paladin, collects bounties for the werewolves slain at Lord Soris’tower and then visits the run down shrine of St Culthbert’s in pursuit of visions and rumors of lost treasures. Here they find traces of a secret passage and a bedraggled priest tending the shrine.

*Trelain smiles at the would-be priest tending to the run-down temple. *

"Lad, yer meal be on mes if ye have at it. Der be no need ta goin wif no bread o such fer days."

"Hold! I'd like to talk to the Friar."

"I hope you still have enough Lore to recognize these symbols", the paladin said while opening his cloak to openly display his order's coats of arm.

The priest seems a bit overwelmed by all the attention and his eyes widen on seeing the paladin's heraldry.

"Can it be? It's been many years since any of your kind have been to this place. Has the order indeed remembered us and sent help to restore the shrine to it's former glory?"

He glances hopefully around at the party.

*Thini thinks briefly* I see no reason why we could not be of help to these people, in fact it sounds like great fun. *smiles at the thought*

Our story thus far...

Trelain and Thin decided to return to Perrin with news of the progress made thus far by the team towards hunting down the necromancer. The party was joined by a hobbit priest who had heard of the challenge of the crypt.

With help from the hobbit, and with the mighty axe of Rhon, the party managed to overcome the assorted traps and guardians protecting the hidden relics of the chapel.

Wearily, they retraced their steps and once more stood in chapel.

Our story thus far...

The weary band picked up some leads on the necromancer from the chapel priest on their return from the challenge of the crypt. A few further shreds where gleaned in conversations with some of the locals in the inn. A mercenary, possibly of the necromancer, showed up in the inn, though efforts to talk with him provedd unsuccessful. The hobbit stole into his room while he slept and poked thru his gear in hopes of finding some further clues.

*Thini turns to rhon* hey rhon i didn't find much of anything really but his armor and weapon had some kind of religious markings on them. *describes the markings to rhon, hoping that he can make something of them* well that is what was on there hopefully you can tell what they mean or what sect they belong to.

Tracking the wandering mercenary, the party scout found a potential entrance to the necromancer's stronghold in the ruins above the caverns. On their way there, the group ran into the quasit familiar of the necromancer who struck a deal for some info on two ways into the hideout for gems. Now, can they trust the info to be true?


"Well, Esmeralda. I guess you need to deal with demons from time to time."

"No, i don't think He will mind"

"Shall we?"

*The paladin holds his arm, like if a lady would walk beside him and walk further into the forest*

Lian grunts as he looks at the dead bodies scattered across the Inn's room. "Who would want to kill us?" With quick, delicate hands and peering eyes he searches over the corpses, trying to find some clue as to who or what sent these men or if they were but common theives, though they didn't seem like the type.

In elven he spoke to himself, muttering over every thought that came to his mind about the situation. He also made a mental note to update his notebook with his current findings.

Rhon braces himself against the far wall of the small room. Taking in deep breathes he forces himself to relax muttering aloud. "Bah! Dat da last time I takes me armor off! Dem backstabbers nearly gots da best of me!" Looking over at the elf busy pilfering the bodies of the assassins he manages a wry joke. "You best be careful der laddie, I tat I saw dat one twitch a bit when you felt his package up".

With a long sigh the battered dwarf speaks to the room, "I needs a vacation I does."

Picking up a mage studying the local fauna, our heroes returned to explore the way into the necromancer's stronghold via the Caverns of Bos, located beneath the ruins. After battling thru waves of the restless dead and stumbling over a trap or two, the battered team decided to fallback and regroup. While resting back in the village inn, assassins broke into the room and nearly laid the whole party low. Fortunately, the durable dwarf prevailed and managed to bandage up and revive his fallen companions. Rifling the bodies, the team looks for clues as to who sent them.

On one of the bodies, the wizard finds a small scroll which reads;

"You are to dispatch of a small team of strangers likely staying in one of the inns near Templewood. The group includes several demihumans so should be easily recognizable given the rarity of such kinds in these parts. Each team is to retain this scroll untill the contract is executed so that the client can monitor progress."

Signed, Master of the Blackhand"

The Blackhand is an Assassins guild reputed to operate in most realms of the Lands of Etarnon. They are said to be quite deadly and persistennt in their efforts to carry out their commissions.

The wizard surmises the necromancer can scry to locate and observe the bearer of the scroll.

The wizard carefully sets the scroll down and begins to think back to everything he knows of scrying, trying to remember a spell that could either send a backlash at anyone attempting to scry the caster or allow the caster to in turn see the one scrying him. "Don't touch the scroll. Seems someone can use it to scry whoever is in possession of it. So they'll know this attack failed. I fear we may be targetted again. Rhon, I would go check on your friends, with any luck they are fine and I may be able to think of something by the time you return."

On further reflection and study, the mage supposes it might be possible for the scroll to be a target of a scrying as well an area in it's immediate vicinity. Blocking scrying is possible with certain protections spells providing varying degrees of protection.

As the scout left to explore, Lian sat down and pulled out his spell book, muttering over it in elven as he began to prepare his next batch of spells and rest.

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Re: LOE - Online RP

Post by Karvon » Wed Aug 20, 2008 9:29 am

After reviewing their options, the party decided to venture back into Templewood and explore the ruins of the temple, rumored to hold a lost treasure in the crypts and passages below. After tangling with several packs of werewolves, they found their way into one passage only to be set up by green slime. Steps descended into a pool and the thief volunteered to swim ahead and see what lay beyond.

The water of the pool was mirky dark and cold. After several minutes of diving and probing about, the Elf found a flooded tunnel leading out from one corner of the bottom of the pool.

"Finally, I've found a tunnel." Xavion thought as he swam down in the pool of water, heading towards the corner he saw the tunnel in. "I just hope that it doesn't lead to a dead end..." He thought as he got closer to the tunnel.

With a deep guttural sigh of resignation Rhon divests himself of his cherished breastplate.
"Cruddy Damp gits inta evertink", he says to no one in particular. "Whilst our scout is out swimmin it best be goot time to oil up me metal." With that, the dour dwarf pulls out a small tin of wolverine grease and begins to carefully annoint each joint in his armor.

Finished, he pulls out a seal skin from his pack and carefully wraps his prized plate into a water resistant cocoon. Finishing the task by strapping it to his back, he hefts his shield and prized war axe "Brool". Now me better keeps youse two were I can git a hold of yas in a jiff", securing the axe to his belt and the tower shield to his back, both within easy reach at a moments notice.

Looking across at the cleric whose obvious nervousness has caught Rhon's notice he addresses the angst filled Gnome. "Ya best be shuckin dat armor laddie" We be swimmin fer sure went dat elf gits back."

Rhon goes on as an after thought, "I be a poor swimmer dat fer sure, but I can holds me breath long time I tinks, You best not be gitting lost so holds onto me belt when I goes in and we be okays."

With a wink the grim faced Dwarf ties a loop into his belt for the nervous Gnome to grasp.

After the days events Lian sits against a wall after having made sure the doors were securely locked. Looking at the other 3 as they prepared, he muttered in draconic about how they were annoying. A blasted werewolf had chased him across the woods back to town and back. This normally wouldn't be a problem, with his spells to take it out, but the thing was too close for him to be able to stop, turn, and cast. He didn't have the health of body needed to survive a one on one encounter up close with one of the beasts, leaving him to do the only thing he could... run.

Then the Gnome had the gull to call him a coward, if indirectly. He kept his rage and anger off his face, bubbling in the back of his mind. He tried to do good things, but there was no denying the fact that he right now wanted no more than to watch the 3 suffer and die, preferably close enough to town that he could drag their equipment and items away to sell.

Maybe that necromancer they were talking about would care for an apprentice.

And so did the adventures face the prospect of the watery tunnel.
Grim was the news they must divest themselves of armor and weapons to journey through the pool.
After a committee meeting and several movements to adjourn the band vowed to divest themselves of gold in exchange for supplies and gear. So it was moved that they return to town.
Many cunning deals did they broker and many a bargain was dickered.
This was tiring business so the adventurers did vow to return to the inn where they lay down their heads.
Frightful were the accomodations. Lumpy mattresses, crumpled sheets and a suspicious looking stain was found upon the floor. Lo did the dwarf snore keeping his companions awake for much of the evening.
With ill humor did the band of adventurers continue their quest. Beset yet again by the same pack of werewolves which they had fought twice before, the mission hovered on the brink of disaster.
It was here did the mage remember a sale going on for camping equipment at the dry goods store and he made good his exit. Here too was fought the epic battle of the mosquitoes where much blood was spilt.
And so did the adventures face the prospect of the watery tunnel.

Xavion sighed as he began placing his things into a pile near the northwest corner of the room. Things didn't seem to be going so well for him and the small group he traveled with. They were in dire need of money, and the fastest way to get some seemed to involved going down into a large pool of water and then hoping that it leads to a treasure vault. However, this seemed to cause the group some problems.

The elven wizard seemed to refuse to come along, and offered to watch over their things while they went down. However, the wizard seemed again at the others, and Xavion didn't trust him just yet, though he was left with little choice. And the gnome was also a weird one, not wanting to go down into the lake, yet not wanting to stay with the wizard even more. Those two don't seem to get along Xavion thought as he sighed once more.

And finally, there was Rhon, the Dwarf, and perhaps the only person there that Xavion trusted. He still owed Xavion a thousand gold from the werewolf bounty job they had, and this was one of the excuses Xavion used to rationalize his continued traveling with them. Rhon seemed to have no problem with going down into the lake, and for this Xavion was glad. At least one person other then himself was okay with the task at hand.

After having followed after the group, leaving behind what he could afford to and using the magic bags the dwarf had left behind to store what he could to lower his weight to the bare minimum, Lian had come out of the water tunnel to find the gnome heading his way with two things on his tail. A magic missile spell had killed the first and another had harmed the second, though the Gnome had been shot down by that time. The wizard's rapier had killed the other, though he himself fell to the things last counter.

They had awoke in darkness of a cell, badly wounded and barely alive with the horrid bandages the creatures used on them. After some talk they pretended to sleep when the guard came. The poor thing didn't survive long, for as he turned to leave, Lian let loose a blast of lightning, frying the fish man. They may have his equipment but they could not take the spells he had left.

Now he was about to leave the cell. His robes he had given to Rhon, the dwarf, as he could no longer stand the sight of seeing the Rhon in his underwear. Xavion had scouted and had told of a couple guards up the passage way. Lian's hands crackled with magic as he prepared to make with the zapping.

Stumbling into a band of devilmen after emerging from the flooded passage, the party put up a brief but disorganized resistance before being overpowered. They awoke, unsure of how much time had passed or even where they were for sure, to find themselves prisoners of the devilmen. The mage fried a guard who came to check on them and the rogue stole out and took a preliminary look at their prison block. What will they do next?

Staring dejectedly at the floor of his dungeon cell Rhon Axebasher can be hear muttering to homself. "I froze up I did, got a cramp in me leg an I sank like a stone. Best I stayed at the Inn for all the bother I'v been. If Coulda kept me head and not sucked up half da water in da room I could kilt all those slimy critters fer sure! Losing me stout axe shames me! Brool was given to me by my Da, as his Da before him has passed it down to him. I canna call meself an Axebasher if I dinna find my Brool!"

Looking over his crudely bandaged and battered body Rhon makes a solemn vow. "I find me axe or I dies here. No ways abouts it. There be a reckonin comin and dem fishfolk be sorry dey ever mets up wit dis Dwarf!"

Xavion sighed as he sat near one of the small room's corners, looking around at the other three with him. This had to be one of the worst moments in his life, tied only with the time he had told his family that he wasn't going to be a wizard like they wanted. He learned a valuable lesson that day, which was that a group of magi are not people you want angry at you. But that was the past, and he quickly brought his thoughts back to his current problem, his capture by the hands of devilmen.

"Becoming a slave is definitely not want I want to be, and becoming dinner is even worse... Our escape must go flawlessly..." He said quietly to himself. He then stood up and looked over at the others. "Well, I'd say we only have one chance at escaping, so failure is not an option. We will escape, and we will make those Devil Fish rue the day they tried to make slaves out of us!"

The team tried to break out of jail. They questioned a couple of other prisoners and were warned they were in some kind of test. They pressed on and were spotted and pulverized by the guards, awakening again - who knows how many hours/days later in the increasingly familiar surroundings of their dank dungeon cell. One of the senior devilmen visited the cell some time later, but the dwarf assaulted and killed him before they heard much out of him. The accompanying devilmen relocked the cell and left the group to stew.

Rhon sighs and goes sit in the farthest corner away from his comrades. First the loss of his prized war axe and now the apparent mocking by one of their captors was too much for the short-tempered but lawful Dwarf. He only meant to knock the creature down and intimidate the fish-fiend. He never meant to kill it. He had felt several of the creature's ribs crack when he struck it in the chest with his rock hard fist. "Dem tings not made from very skookum stuff, not like land folk dat fer sure", he muttered to himself. The truth be told, for the first time in his life Rhon was scared. Feeling totally helpless at the hands of these strange beings had caused the remorseful Dwarf to lash out at one of their captors in a blind rage. Now with his ire under control he wonders how his ill-tempered response to the devil-fish's taunting will effect his comrade's future.

The wizard sat by himself, running through what all he could do. Nothing but wait for now. Sit, plan, and hope they would give him a place where he could rest soon, not this hard ground. Here he could not meditate and prepare his spells. He had but a couple left, and they would not last long once they pulled off another escape.

The team agrees to a series of tests which could lead to their eventual freedom from the Sahaugin. They successfully complete the first two with some effort and prepare for the third and final test.

Surviving the final challenge vs the sharks, the party tries one last time to escape - rather than serve the Sahuagin, and it ends badly. The Sahuagin decide to cut their losses and sell the team, along with other surviving slaves, to undead slavers. Shackled to the hull of the slave ship in a lower cell, the party slowly mends as the ship tacks for ports unknown.

Our heroes led an attempted slave revolt against the undead crew with the aid of some lizardmen. Alas, though they managed to overpower the local guards, they were unable to overcome the crew on the upper deck and awoke some hours later, quite black and blue and reshackled in a more secure hold of the ship.

The undead slavers unloaded their captives into the depths of an underground lair and the party found themselves in yet another small stone cell. From a neighboring prisoner they discover they are on Pirates Isle, a notorious nest of pirates, thieves and assassins under the protection of a powerful wizard. What will the future hold for the band?

Oh how bad luck it was for him to join these... these... he couldn't even think of a word. The only one of the 3 that seemed to have any brains was the other elf. The dwarf seemed to think that problems could all be solved through brute force and the gnome. The gnome irritated Lian the most, going on about trying to talk to their captors and diplomacy this and diplomacy that. Even the dwarf was getting annoyed at the small being.

The wizard sat, going over everything in his mind. Finally he thought of something and smiled lightly. "Xavion, could you examine the lock on this gate for me and tell me how well it is made?"

After breaking out of their cell, the party killed the lone guard on patrol in their cell block and successfully pried open a grate leading into the rocky tunnels serving as a natural sewer for the fortress. Though naked and unarmed they managed to fend off or dispatch various oozes and vermin living below and stumbled upon a long lost pirates hoard. In a tough fight they managed to smash up the skeletal guardians and set upon looting the chests and crates. Alas, in his eagerness, the wizard tripped an electrical trap which turned him to ash and nearly took the thief along with him. Fortunately, the priest was able to use his gods powers to stabilize the rogue. Sadder, but wiser, the survivors allowed the thief to do his work and the hoard was finally theirs without further incident. Rearmed and resupplied the party ponders its next move as they rest around a small fire.

Replendid in his newly acquired plate looted from the pirates secret treasure horde, Rhon laments over the charred ashes of the incautious mage. "Dis fella be a goot pal and boon back watcher. He be weak hearted in body but hale in spirit and be right smart at times." Rhon gives a large sigh, "Too bads da loot gots to his brain." Best to not leaves him here fer rats ta gnaw on." Carefully the gruff Dwarf sweeps the ashy remains into one of the small (now empty) pouches found in the treasure horde.

After tucking the improvised urn into his pack the Dour Dwarf brightens noticably as he grasps the handle of his newly won war axe. Taking practiced swings and deftly tossing it from one hand to the other Rhon's face beams with the thrill of using the fierce Dwarven weapon. "Youse could be a brother ta my poor Brool", Rhon coos at the gleaming axe. "When da time is right an I knows yer mettle I names you proper, but fer now I gives you name in honor of me dead pal." Reaching into the small sack containing Lian's ashes Rhon takes a small pinch of the departed mage and rubs it into the axe's edge. Announcing proudly to the rest of the party Rhon holds up the waraxe and says: "Harken all! Dis be AshBasher!"

Looking around for an affirmation that his pals got his jokebut getting a blank stare from the Rogue and a pained expression from the Gnome. Rhon shook his head sadly that his comrades didn't have the sophistication to get Dwarven humor.

"Bah Youse guys don't get me joke. I do it fer real now okays?" Holding up the axe and saying with great reverence. "Lian you passed from dis mortal plane into anudder, but your spirit be wit me always. I annoints me axe wit your mortal remains and pass all dat be goot n true from youseself to it. From dis day to da ends of my days me right hand weapon will now be known as "Lian"! When you be battle tested and your mettle known I will give youse a title ta go wit yer name.

Then with no further fuss nor flare Rhon replaces his newly named waraxe onto his belt.

Well, things had gone from interesting to downhill. Rarin had just arrived at the cliffs only to find a group coming from the caves. They said they were slaves, but they seemed awfully well equipped for them. Still, he had made a little money taking them back to Wizard's Cove.

Rarin Alow is a treasure hunter. A good job for one that was trained as a tracking ranger and was away from the woodlands he grew up in. Of course all he sought for now was a place to rest and think on what to do.

Having made their way to along the coast by small boat, the party has put in at the notorious pirates' nest called Wizard's Cove. Now, they are gathered around a table in a large inn called the Happy Harpy and considering their next move.

Rhon sits in the Happy Harpy slowly drinking his ale. "Dis ale not be haft bad, musta been a merchant ship wit some of da goot stuff aboard". With the mention of the goot stuff Rhon thinks back to his stolen war axe and clan keepsake "Brool". Putting a hand absently on his new axe "Lian" he suddenly makes a startling deduction. "Blast!" Dem fishfolk have no need fer a weapon such as Brool. I bets dey sell him to dem same pirates dat took us!" Nudging the Gnome sitting next to him Rhon whispers to Rigid, "Hey ya tinks dey got a merchant in dis dive dat sells hot stuff? Maybe me Brool be der? Ya tinks?"

"Perhaps", the Gnomish cleric says evenly, "But I'm the wrong person to be asking about that sort of think. You need to be asking our pal", pointing to the Xavion.

Chatting up a local beggar, the party takes interest in the ruins of a old temple. Finding an entrance shaft covered with large stones, the party sets out into the interior of the island to search for suitable trees to fashion into levers to move them aside. Climbing to the heights of the gorge, battling off harpies along the way, they spy a series of lush green canyons up the river in the valley below and descend to investigate it.

Having flitted down the valley swiftly, like only an elf could, Rarin stopped as he entered the woods. He smiled and just drank in the feel of the life about him. "WONDERFUL! SIMPLY WONDERFUL! Ah how I've missed such beauty and longed for the feel of the such a place again." The ranger walked slowly right at that edge, so his temporary partners could catch up. Upon their arrival he would say only this. "Come now, let's see what dead logs we can find to use. Touch a tree with that weapon of yours, dwarf, and I'll put an arrow through you."

Rhon looks momentarily puzzled at the threatening statement made the rash newcomer.
Gripping the haft of his axe tightly he responds in a measured voice one used to scold children. "Youse best not be puttin an arrow in me back or dat of me pals unless you wants ta be buried amongst yer precious trees."

The stout Dwarf pauses for a moment before continuing. "Besides any fool know dat green wood makes fer poor levers, too much bend in dem."

The good ship Sea Witch had set sail from the Wizard's Cove some hours ago, striking out for other ports of the Pirate Isles. It's sails were just small squares near the horizon.

On the dock, Jarvik Kolds stood bleary-eyed among the bollards and cleats of the pier, watching the ship, and employment depart, as a pair of squawking gulls tore at a prize fish, while a starving cat scant feet away assessed it's own chances at a meager breakfast.

Jarvik had slept late, and the girl he'd spent a raucous evening with at the Black Heart of the Sea Tavern had dared to steal the majority of his ship's guard pay.

Still, he had his weapons, and she'd not taken his heirloom ring, either.

He'd hear rumors that there was yet an old temple out in the Jungle. Perhaps if not treasure, he might find a place to shelter for a while, until his prospects picked up. The rumors of a curse bothered him not, for he'd only attended the masses of St. Culbert in North Whitecliff as a gesture to his betrothed.

But now she, Whitecliff, and the Temple of St. Culbert were long gone..as was his mustering out pay from the Army of Perrinland, thus his trip to the Pirate isles; Good pay, easy work, and perhaps a bit of excitement along the way..but now, finding himself amongst the rough and tumble taverns of Wizard's cove, he felt himself an outsider, a misfit.

He knew he was at his heart, and adventurer, some might call him footloose, chafing under the rule of Lord Fox.

Perhaps he'd start an adventuring company, or throw in his lot with a band of orderly types, who might need a sword. Perhaps.

Breathing in the fresh sea breeze, as the wind blew spindrift tops back from the breaking waves along the pier, he looked to the dead fish. The cat had emerged, and driven off the gulls, and ate hungrily, tail twitching.

Jarvik walked through town, idly picking up bits and pieces of bawdy songs, and idle conversation among the scalawags and blackguards of the Inns and Taverns that served those who worked on and at the edge of the Southron Sea.

He entered the jungle.

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Re: LOE - Online RP

Post by Karvon » Wed Aug 20, 2008 9:36 am

The party ventured into the Emerald Canyons and found suitable timber to construct levers needed to work their way into the vaults below the ruined temple of the EHP. Surviving an ambush by a soaring manticore on their way back down the Crawl, the made their way back to Wizard's Cove where they met up with two adventurers, a wizard and a crossbowman searching for excitement. Together they returned to the ruins, removed the rubble blocking the shaft and descended into the vaults. Defeating some initial Gargoyle guardians and extended search revealed a secret door leading deeper into the vaults. Alas the passage seemed riddled with traps, so the party decided to take a rest and hope their missing rogue would catch up with them.

The ranger just stood, evaluating the two new people. The female was pretty, for a human, and the male had a pretty good aim with the crossbow. Xavion had better return soon, they needed to get deeper in, where there was likely to be treasure.

After battling their way thru assorted traps, a magical maze and a sewer, the party - a bit worse for wear - fell back to a defensible ledge on the edge of the maze to rest for a bit. They discuss their options as they sit about the fire.

Rarin kept looking towards where the room he had been was. "If we were only immune to cold or fire... this would be much easier."

As the party rested around the fire on the edge of the magical maze they were joined by Rashard, a war priest and former associate of Rhon. The party then decided to explore the large hall in the middle of the maze. Rushing in to battle the skeletal archers, they came face to face with a large stone golem and in the ensuing chaotic melee, most of the party was laid low. Rashard managed to revive the Gnome Rigid and together they were eventually able to distract the golem long enough to recover the other fallen members of the party. Unfortunately, the two Elves, Xavion and Rarin had bled to death and were beyond help. Carrying their fallen comrades with them, the party slowly made their way out of the ruins and back to the nearby village of Wizard's Cove.

While discussing their options in The Happy Harpy of Wizard's Cove, the party met and recruited a pair of Elven mages to fill their ranks.

While shopping for supplies, they were offered a bounty by the local Gnome wizard merchant to provide some components for his products. The first they decided to look into securing were the feathers and spikes of a manticore, a creature often found hunting in the Crawl - the valley north of Wizard's Cove.

"I hope you all realize that Manticores can shoot their spikes, which can be very deadly if you get hit. I have heard people tell of various effects done by them, though I didn't have much actual use to study them. Perhaps Xion could fill you in on more actual facts, as he is the more bookish of us two." The sorcerer eyed the group warily as he spoke, excluding his friend till the end, though no wariness was in his look towards the other elf.

"Yes, well what my Elven friend here says is correct, though their spikes don't have any special effects to them. They are also capable of speaking Common, so we should be able to speak with them if we want to, though that is assuming the Manticores don't attack us when they first see us. They typically like to live in warm marshes, and their usual attack pattern is to launch all the spikes they can release a day from a range first, and then close in to finish off it's prey, though if it thinks it has attacked something too strong, it may decide to retreat and fly away. Is there anything else you'd like to know about them?" Xion said rather quickly as he glanced around the room at the rest of the group.

Bah strong armor and a good sheild should solve most of the problems with the manticora's spikes. But what sort of effects are you talking about, it never hurts to enter battle properly prepared to handle the wounds of the survivors. *Ras stated*

The group set out for the valleys above the village in search for a manticore. They easily dispatched a flock of cliff stirges and a pack of wolves which set upon them. Probing into the Emerald Canyons they decided it was unsuitable for manticores and also a bit dangerous as the hunting grounds of the local green dragon. Turning back and working their way further up the walls of the valley they were set upon by a manticore hunting in the twilight. After absorbing a barrage of it's spikes, the party drove it off with assorted missile fire.

*Ras scraping spikes off armor and sheild* *snorts* Well that was an unnecessary reminder of the usefulness of high ground in an attack. *points a couple of spikes still on sheild* Think that mage will pay for these. *Watches retreating Manticora*

"Oh yes, I'm sure he will pay for those spikes Mr. Rhon. It's just a shame that we were forced to violence though... I'm sure the Manticore would have just given us some of it's spikes if he didn't think we wanted to kill it..." Xion said as he glanced over at the spikes near Rhon, sighing.

Rhon looks up from removing the manicore's welcoming volley from his shield. "Elf, youse be gabbin wit dat Gnome haven't yea?" Tells ya whats, next beastie we comes across youse can scratch its ears and talk babytalks to it.
Fer sure, after I kills it, I be sure to carry yer carcas back to da cove fer proper buryin." With that Rhon lets out a loud snort and re-slings his shield.

Pressing on up from The Crawl to The Peak, the party encountered and drove off another manticore and then found and cleared out their lair, collecting some spikes and feathers from the corpses. On the way back down to the village they lost one of the elven mages in an ambush by assassins. After collecting their bounty from the gnome wizard, they retired to the inn and now are discussing their options.

The adventurers recruited a new rogue and chatted with some locals as they pursued potential options in Wizard’s Cove, finally settling on taking working passage to Morovia aboard the Seahawk, a ship crewed in part by skeletal hands.

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Re: LOE - Online RP

Post by Karvon » Wed Aug 20, 2008 9:46 am

The party met up with a new shipmate over drinks at the Happy Harpy and learned a bit more about their new home, the Seahawk. As dawn approached they staggered down to the harbor and went aboard. They were introduced to the marine capt, Brother Silas, who gave them a rundown on their duties and ship rules. After the issue of discipline was sorted out, the party divided into watches as the ship weighed anchor and sailed north for Morovia. A few hours out from Wizard's Cove the ship was attacked by small flying creatures armed with crossbows. These were dispatched but laid low a couple of the skeletal hands. Brother Silas "repaired" the busted up skeletons and they returned to service. As dusk fell, the new watch reported for duty.

Rhon carefully oils and hones his prized war axe "Lian", across from him in on another bunk lays the moral conscious of the party, the good natured and some what naive Gnome cleric, Rigid. While the dwarf works on his axe the two friends speak in hushed whispers.
"I dinna like dat Silas, he has a dark soul and a mean heart. I expect before we git land under our feet agin, Lian and dat blokes head will be meetin wit each udder".
Rigid rolls over to make eye contact with his pal, "Now don't be doing anything hasty Rhon, you may be right about his soul, but it may not come to blows." The Gnome visibly brightens, "Besides this is just a merchant vessle, They're not out looking for trouble".
Rhon snorts loudly, "Maybes, but I done talkin to dat fella, the first time he attacks another ship dat aint botherin us, Lian here will be doing me talkin fer me. You wit me on dis me are yea not?"
The Gnome nods slowly, "when you put it that way I guess so, but please before you do any thing rash let me talk to him. I'm sure he will be reasonable. What harm can come of a nice friendly chat?"
*The dour dwarf give a short grunt, deftly swings his waraxe up to an enguard position and begins making short arcing sweeps designed to lop off limns and open bellys. "We shall see. .... Well shall see"

Look-outs spot a distant sail which seems to be moving to intercept the Seahawk. The first mate alters course to evade and the pursuer fails to close by nightfall. At dinner, Captain Kirov joins the mess for the first time and briefly interviews each of the new crew members. He also shares a little bit of his background. Later that evening Devilmen of the Deep attack the ship from several sides but are driven off. The next day, the weather worsens and a storm batters the ship and crew. Gor the barbarian is swept overboard and nearly drowns before the dwarf manages to shoot a crossbow bolt into him and drag him back aboard via the attached line. The exhausted barbarian is administered to by the party healers. Only a couple of days more till landfall in Morovia.

The marines successfully defeated water demons, repelled undead slavers and butchered a giant crab which threatened the ship. Capt. Kirov was so pleased with their performance, he paid them a large bonus and offered them employment on his next voyage. The party politely declined and received some final warning about the dangers of Morovia's undead and assassins. As the Seahawk entered the harbor and weighed anchor, the party looked forward to being ashore and pursuing their next quest.

The party spent most of the day exploring the shops and inns of Morovia and ran into a few of the restless dead roaming the streets after sundown before seeking refuge in an inn for the night. Here, they found a couple of job offers and decided to take up the search for an ancient tome of Morovian history said to be buried in the tomb of a sage on the lower levels of the city's crypts.

Well, now that, that's settled I recommend that we try to prepare for the upcoming umm mission and battles. *frowns a moment* Not to mention what the laws are concerning entering the crypt. I suppose we could travel there under the cover of darkness but *slight smile* I doubt we would have much strength left to face whatever awaits us in the crypt.

Rhon glowers at the comment of "cover of darkness" and snorts with displeasure," Da only cover around hereaboots after dark is in dis inn. Seems like we goes out after sundown we be attracting undead like a moths ta torches". Befor I sets one step inta anudder crypt I wants more skinny on whats down there and exactly where we be looking fer."

"Well, according to that man, there are no laws restricting access to the Crypt... It's just that they don't expect you to return alive once you enter... So entering during the day should be fine. It's just that unless we plan on spending the night there, or leaving during the night, we had better make sure we can finish our task before nightfall... And we'll probably need more information like Rhon suggested to do so..." Xalden said as he looked at Rashard and Rhon.

*stares at the ceiling a moment* Well we could conduct a scouting trip of our own. Say we could condut our own reconnaissance in force and move through the crypt trying to engage the enemy err whatever is down there and then after contact leave qickly to better plan our actual foray.

The intrepid quartet of the dwarf, gnome, human and rogue finished up some shopping and the made an initial foray into the crypts in search of the ancient tome. An initial encounter with two lumbering mummies patrolling the entrance hall was touch'n'go for awhile as both priests were felled in the initial fighting. Fortunately the dwarf and rogue were able to finally dispatch the enemy and with potions and bandages revive the fallen priests. A slow and steady search thru various doors and halls bypassing traps with a combo of the rogue's skills and Rashards prayers, and battling a number of lesser undead guardians eventually led the party to find the first set of stairs leading deeper into the catacombs.

Rhon plops down hard on the tavern's stool in disgust. It had taken him nearly an hour to wash the stink out of his britches after he had soiled them in the unfortunate forray into the city's crypts.

"Wit luck dey be dry by morn and I won't be worrying a wart on me arse." Rhon says to no one in particular, We's got too be some better tinkin or it da end of us all, we goes down in dat crypt again."

The tubby Gnome Rigid looks up from his glass and replies with a sincerest of tones, "The blame is not yours my friend, but alas the burden falls upon my shoulders. I should have had more foresight and had protections at the ready to combat the fear those bandaged fiends exuded. Next timem, We'll be more prepared."

The Dwarf grunts in acknowledgement, "Youse not ta blame laddie, I shoulda been able ta shrug off such a dweomer." The dwarf raises his leathern ale jack and salutes the Gnome. "Heres ta youse".

*looks at Rhon and Rigid* Bah, we found out some of what we needed to know and can be better prepared when we make the actual foray into the crypt. *glances at Xalden* for instance we know that whomeever set the traps in that place had some skill. We will need to be prepared for when *grimaces* physical skills fail us. With the strength of Heln to aid us and the strength we have developed for ourselves we will succeed in this task. *frowns a moment* Although *looks at the mage and Rigid* some coordination on our parts will greatly increase the strength of the party.

Xalden just sat down quietly in the tavern after the party had returned there from the crypts. He just listened to the others speak for a while before finally speaking himself. "Well, while I admit that there were a few traps that were out of my league... for the most part I should be able to handle any traps we find. What we should be concentrating on is combat with the undead... Particularly those who can inspire fear like mummies..."

*Rashard sits taking stock of his supplies* *looking at Rhon* The next time someone is injured to the point of death they would be st served if you left them alone. *slight smile* I am afraid that your ministrations had *pauses* sped Rigid along the path to deaths door. In several cases his wounds were worse than they should have been. *looks at Xalden and nods* We are now even.

*grunts and ties bag shut* *looks a moment at the others holding up a hand to forestall any comments* I have one other thing that needs said for the strength of our party. That was a set ambush we ran into leaving the crypt. The traps that were set, the number of foes that attacked, all lead me to believe that someone attempted to kill Rhon again and perhaps this time all of us. We will have to use caution at all times and move in good order. *frowns a moment* In fact it would be best if we always travelled in groups of two or more even when shopping. No one should be left alone.

Rhon Grunts in aknowledgement of the clerics gentle rebuking of his healing touch.
"I aint no cleric dat fersure, but aint gonna let a pal bleed out in front of me nohow. Glad youse could git der in time, but I aint sorry fer trying."

The dwarf settles back in his chair, "Rashard be right about dat ambush, we been attacked more den a couple o times when wes be at our weakest. Must be dat necromunger out to git me n mine." Rhon pauses for a moment to scratch his beard, "Da healer give goot council, we needs to stay together. One tink I noted dat these cruds never attack us in da open, always out of sight o other folk. To avoid gittin in a nudder jamb where we be short o spells and unhale, da mages n clerics needs to hold a couple of big spells in der bag fer emergencies."

The dwarf pauses a moment and then continues,
"Anudder tink dat aint setting right wit me is da tomb robbing we be doing. It be fine to take stuff off o da fiends we slay in defense o our lives but it be anudder tink to rob from dead folk. From now on we dinna take stuff dat be in da coffins unlees it be dat blasted book we be lookin fer." Rhon emphasizes his statement by slamming his mailed fist down on the oak table hard enough to upset several of the near empty mugs and steins.

After a bit of reprovisioning, the party returned for their second delving into the crypts of Morovia. With new magical wards and spells they generally made short work of most of the undead guardians they crossed as they searched for the tomb of the sage. Weighed down by captured arms and armor, they decided to fallback to the city and lighten their packs. On the way out they ran into a few more wandering dead then fell into an ambush laid by two assassins. Several party members were laid low before the assailants disappeared. Fortunately the priest of Heln was able to save the fallen and the battered band retreated to lick their wounds and consider their next step.

Xalden just sat quietly while Rashard and Rhon spoke, thinking about everything that had happened during their second trip down to the crypts, and thinking about what he should have down instead of what he did do. After thinking for a bit, he noticed that Rhon and Rashard had finished speaking and looked at them both. "Hmm... I agree with the suggestion of Rashard that we move in pairs at the very least... And I'm okay with not looting the dead as well, other then for the book of course. I do however think we should leave this place as soon as possible... This is a Necromancer's paradise after all, and we don't want to allow this enemy of yours any advantages at all if we can help it..." Xalden says as he then slowly sips a glass a wine.

Now that the party has recovered the book in the bottom of the crypts and now that they have been lavished with riches Rigid can't help but think they have pushed their luck too long in Moravia. True his comrades are eager to meet with the palid "Dustman" for another list of contracts at noon tomorrow. He can't help think it unwise that to be at an appointed place during an appointed time when assassins are around trying to kill them.

Rigid takes time to pray the caravan to the Shieldlands is delayed for awhile.

The party returned once more to the crypts and this time successfully located and retrieved the lost tome. Battling assorted undead and slimes, they made their way back out and arranged a rendezvous with their patron. While some seem eager to leave Morovia, the patron indicated he might have other commissions, should the party be so inclined. The team is now considering their next step.

A human dressed in full plate enters the tavern and approaches the bar taking a quick glance around the smoky room as he crosses. He approaches the barkeep and nods.

"An ale and a room, sir," he says as he plunks down a gold grown. He waits patiently for his beer while keeping his back to the room. As the barkeep returns with the full tankard, he says, "Know of any work round here for a strong sword and steady shield?"

Rhon looks up blearily from his ale tankard near the tavern's bar. The stranger's query gets the enubriated Dwarfs attention. "Youse lookin fer a stake eh?" Rhon asks the plate clad newcomer. "Lots o work be *hick* here ifn youse dinna mind a bit o wet work."

The stranger turns to the soddened Dwarf, appraising him briefly with an exprienced eye.
"I was talking with the barkeep, but yes, I'm in need of a ... stake as you call it. You look as if you've dented a skull or two, do know of something specific?

Rhon makes a sweeping gesture to the empty chair opposite him. "Sits down laddie, da next round ish on mes." The Stout dwarf holds up two stubby fingers two the bartender, "Two more ifn youse pleases, bring whats ever dis young lad is drinkin."

As the armor plated human carefully sits down opposite the Rhon the dwarf continues, "Me names Rhon, me n me mates been hiring oot fer some nasty work, youse looks like ya kin handle yerself okay. But...", just then the maid arrives with two more full tankards and Rhon's full attention is consumed on how wet he can get his long beard while guzzling with great relish.

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Re: LOE - Online RP

Post by Karvon » Wed Aug 20, 2008 9:48 am

A traveling mercenary swordsman joined the team, and after some shopping, the party met with their mysterious patron who hired them to recover some items stolen by a hobbit rogue. As the thief was last seen escaping into the sewers beneath the city, the group prepared to descend.

The party successfully searched the sewers and retrieved the items found on the missing hobbit rogue. Returning to the surface, they turned these over to their mysterious patron and collected their reward. Now, they ponder their next step.

*Grumbling Rashard wipes at a stubborn stain on his armor* Cursed acid beast may Heln strike them all dead. *pausing in his cleaning Rashard looks at the others who are still in the room* We should give some thought to moving to a new location. *rubs chin* Staying in one location too long has taken it toll on this group. Besides I am growing weary of the twice damned undead walking these streets at night.

Xalden just leaned against the wall inside of the Lucky Dragon as he waited for someone. As he waited, he contemplated over their last job. "I'm positive I could have kept those two items without our employer realizing it... But I can't exactly go against the wishes of my companions either... At least I managed to find a copy of that ring from one of the shops..." Xalden muttered to himself. "And now a mysterious figure wishes to speak with me... Most likely the local Thieves' Guild isn't happy with me operating here in their territory... Hopefully this can be resolved without me having to flee the city..." He thought as he sighed.

Rigid looks down on his stout companion laying prostrate on the bed. A low audible moan escapes the Dwarf's lips every few moments, the dwarf barely conscious of his pals nearby.

"Poor dear", remarks the Gnome, "How many times have I told you that moderation is the path of the righteous. This is what comes from over indulgence, a fat head and rumbly tummy."

"Over Indulgence?" remarks Xalden "Rhon tried to eat half a steer!"

"and drink the place dry" added Rashard in disgust. " He won't be good to anyone as well as himself until he recovers from his celebrations.

Just then the bedraggled dwarf simutaneously belches and breaks wind so loud the candle on the bedstand shivers and jiggles.

"Thats It!" exclaims Rashard I'm outta here until he sobers up, the inn keeper must have another room available."

Xalden follows quickly after the cleric, "The room's cleaning bill comes out of the dwarf's share.

"Wait! Wait!" Rigid calls after his friends, "Rhon needs our help and we shouldn....". Just then the odor hits the Gnome's nostrils. Suppressing his gag reflex Rigid covers his nose and scurries after Xalden and Rashard.

*shaking his head in disgust Rashard walks to the common room* Bah, *grimaces* to think a warrior allowing himself to fall into such a state. *muttering to the air and any who follow* That drink is his weakness and will be his downfall.

*motions to the waitress* Some wine and water. *tosses a couple of coins onto the table*

Waiting for his drink Rashard observes the crowd in the common room.

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